


Peaches and Cream

by muttthecowcat22



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Great British Bake Off Fusion, Baking, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 03:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17675504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muttthecowcat22/pseuds/muttthecowcat22
Summary: Hank never thought he’d step foot in Welford Park, a distant pipe dream overshadowed by late night detective work, early mornings, taking Cole to school . . .  He never imagined he’d get to see the iconic white tent in person, much less step into it with a camera crew.  He ran his hands over the wooden counter, opened the blue oven and cabinets.  For the first time in a long time, he was looking forward to the day.-A Great British Bake Off AU





	Peaches and Cream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [konoyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/konoyo/gifts).



> Based partially on [this artwork](http://oyonok.tumblr.com/post/181092640076/some-gbbo-inspired-hankcon-sketches-twitter-for) by my giftee for this super late secret santa gift!!
> 
> This is a GBBO AU!  
> Please imagine that everyone has a British accent; it makes this so much better. You're welcome

Hank climbed out of the bus, stretching his stiff joints, the other competitors filing out behind him. Yellow and white snowdrops stretched out before him, just like he had always imagined, the grass bright and alive beneath them. 

He never thought he’d step foot in Welford Park, a distant pipe dream overshadowed by late night detective work, early mornings, taking Cole to school . . .  He never imagined he’d get to see the iconic white tent in person, much less step into it with a camera crew.  He ran his hands over the wooden counter, opened the blue oven and cabinets.  For the first time in a long time, he was looking forward to the day.

The set looked every bit like it had when he and Cole used to watch the show.  Hank already knew a few of his competitors after sitting beside them on the bus.  Chris stood at the station just beside him, looking over his ingredients just as Hank had, another officer who liked to watch the show with his son.  Hank wondered if the damn production crew had selected them both on purpose.  He glanced away and shook his head.  No sense dwelling on it. 

There was no sign of the judges yet, just the unbelievably enormous crew shifting around the tent, adjusting cameras, setting ingredients on each table.  Hank kept an eye out for Richard Rhubarb, the android host and Cole’s favorite.  Cole (and Hank for that matter) used to laugh and laugh at the android’s permanent monotone. 

And sure enough, Hank saw him—or he thought he did—strolling into the station just in front of his own, his hair in a slightly less than perfect swoop than what Hank remembered.  The yellow LED, though, tipped Hank off that something was truly different.  Richard’s had always been a cool blue, no matter what, maybe that had just been edited into the show, but it seemed odd. When the android turned, though, his eyes were brown, not blue.  He sighed (which Richard had never done either) when Chris asked him something that Hank wasn’t paying attention to—because wasn’t Richard a unique model?  What was another android doing on the set?

And then not-Richard turned back to his counter to inspect the ingredients there, just as Hank and Chris had done when they arrived at their own stations.

And it finally hit Hank then: he was a contestant.

What was a fucking android doing as a contestant on the Great British Bake Off?  An android who couldn’t even eat anything, probably couldn’t taste anything either.

Hank knew that this at least was the doing of the production crew or the director or whoever made those decisions.  And it pissed him off.  He’d busted his ass to make it on the show, and to have an android selected immediately just for the TV value . . .

Best not to think about it.

Hank refocused his attention to the front of the tent, where the judges and the real Richard finally waltzed in.  They all seemed shorter in person than they did on the screen.  The camera crew fluttered around them for a few minutes, the constant buzz crawling under Hank’s skin, already sweaty with the sun and the stress.  He fanned at his shirt, one of Cole’s favorites, frowning down at the pineapples printed on it, but he’d have to wear it again the next day no matter how much sweat it absorbed. 

Richard and Tina briefly ran over the theme for the day, cake.  Hank didn’t know if that was really necessary.  It was always cake, wasn’t it? 

“On you marks, get set, BAKE!”

And fucking finally, it was time to start.  Hank immediately dove for his blueberries and a pot to begin reducing them.  The challenge was to bake a cake with fresh fruit, deceivingly easy.  Hank tried to tune out the cameras constantly moving around the edges of his vision, but the blueberries weren’t even halfway soft before Ben, Richard, and Tina descended on him.

“So tell us about what you’re baking today, Hank.” Tina rested her elbows on the counter, just inches away from the flour, her eyes narrowed by the slightest amount.

“It’s going to be a lemon-lavender sponge cake with blueberry meringue buttercream.  My son’s favorite.”  Hank couldn’t keep the huff out of his voice, put out from being interrupted. 

Ben threw Hank a kind smile even as he said, “Make sure not to overdo the lemon.”

“I know,” Hank huffed again.  They were already underestimating him.  Of course he wouldn’t overdo the damn lemon.  At least they didn’t ask any more questions, already having recorded his backstory weeks before the competition.  Thank fuck for small mercies.

Then it was back to baking.  Hank found that the more he focused on his work, the less the swarm of people hovering in the tent bothered him.  He didn’t listen into any of the other interviews.  He already knew that Chris was baking a fancied-up version of strawberry shortcake, and he couldn’t care less what Cooking Mama in front of him was making.  He mixed his batter, got the cake in the oven, and started whipping the icing with an hour to spare.

Everything was going fucking perfect.  That is, until his cake had all of two minutes left in the oven, and a sound came from the station in front of him that reminded him of a damn train exploding.

He looked up, finding fire and smoke suspiciously absent from the scene.  Instead, the back of the android’s impeccably starched shirt appeared to be arched over the oven.  Hank craned his neck over the counter, and that’s when he saw it.

“What the fuck?”

The android was holding the oven door open.  Except the door was no longer attached to the oven.  He’d pulled the door completely off, hinges and all, and was just staring at it in apparent shock.  “I pulled the door off,” Hank heard him mumble.

Must have been pretty strong.

Immediately, one of the camera crew was gripping Hank’s shoulder, jumping him out of his stare.  “Mr. Anderson, I’d like to remind you not to curse on set.  We can’t use the footage if—”

Of course, the one rule on set.  Hank didn’t even bother to defend himself, tuning it out completely.

Tina and Richard had already run to the scene of the crime, but the android still seemed to be about in tears—if that was even possible for him.  His batter sat raw in two pans, which he had presumably been about to put in the oven, and there simply wasn’t another oven under the tent for him to use.  He just stood there like a lost puppy, staring at the broken oven and the disembodied door propped against the counter, his LED blipping from yellow to red every few seconds.

Most of the contestants stared as well, none of them moving to help though. Some of the pricks continued baking, didn’t even look up.

“Hey, kid,” Hank called, against his better judgment.  “My cake’s only got a minute left.  You can use my oven when it’s done.”

The kid turned at Hank’s voice, stared at him for a second.  And then he smiled at Hank, a little wopsided, robot-like, but still lighting up his whole face to his dark eyes, LED cycling yellow before going a bright sky blue.  Smiled.  Hank didn’t even know that androids could smile—Richard certainly never did.  “Thank you,” the android said, but the layer of emotion in those two words stunned Hank for a second.  Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to help the kid out.

“’Course. Least I can do.”

“Yes of course. Thank you, Hank, for your kind offer,” Richard was saying, however dryly, “And, Connor, we’re sorry about your oven.  The crew should be able to have it fixed before the technical challenge begins.”

And that was how Hank found his station smelling like peaches.  Goddamn peaches of all things.  Connor’s batter rose light, fluffy, and high, the peaches in it so finely chopped they were barely visible.  No wonder it had taken so long to prepare.

The android hovered over Hank’s shoulder the entire time his cake was in the oven, his synthetic breath puffing the wisps in Hank’s hair every few moments.  Hank just barely managed not to bat him away in addition to the cameras, scooting down to decorate his cake at the edge of the counter.

The piping came together beautifully, the whipped purple icing a nice accent for fresh blueberries and lemon slices.  Hank cursed (in his head) and shook the cramps out of his hand from holding the piping bag for too long. 

Connor pulled his pans out of the oven with half an hour to spare and whipped back around to his counter to begin laying out some kind of elaborate sliced peach design that fuck knows he didn’t have time to finish.

When Hank finished the last few piping details, he glanced around at the other contestants’ cakes.  Strawberries for Chris, another off to the side had raspberries, Hank even spotted one cake with watermelon.  Connor fluttered around his peach cake until the last second, LED a constant yellow.

Finally, it was time for judging.  Hank felt the satisfaction slump into his body of finally seeing the judges slice into his cake.

“It’s good,” said Ben, thoughtful, “very good, and light.  The flavors are well balanced. The lavender really adds to it overall.”

Then it was stick-up-his-ass Gavin’s turn to weigh in.  “I think the cake’s just a little dry, see how it crumbles? But I was expecting something plainer from you, so this is surprising.”  He looked at Hank over his ratty eyes.

Hank knew Gavin worded things that way just to get a rise, so he stayed silent and took it. That didn’t mean he couldn’t still feel his blood pressure climbing.

The other cakes all received fairly kind remarks from Ben and passively scathing ones from Gavin.  Connor’s extravagant peach angel food cake with rose whipped cream received comments of “good consistency and flavor. It’s amazing you were able to get the peaches suspended in the batter. Well done,” and “Hmm, this is actually okay.”  So, it was a toss up, as far as Hank could see.

The judges walked off to deliberate, and instead of being left to sweat, as Hank had feared, the crew told the contestants to try each other’s cakes.  Hank took a slice of Chris’s and also one of Connor’s.  He was curious to see if the android could actually combine flavors in a way that wasn’t by the book.

At the first bite, Hank knew he’d lost.  The flavor of just the cake itself glowed, some spice that Connor hadn’t mentioned in his description bringing out the sweet, fresh flavor of the peaches. With the whipped cream and the field around them, Hank felt like he was back at home, his parents’ home, before they’d moved to the UK, eating fresh peaches all through the summer.

He found Connor standing near the edge of the tent without a piece of cake for himself.

“Hey, Connor, your cake turned out great,” Hank said before he could think better of it.  “Think it might win even after the whole oven disaster and all that.”

“What if I said I think yours might win?  Wish I could try some.”  But the fucker couldn’t keep that wonky smile off his face.

“You’re a smug son of a bitch, aren’t you? Thinking you’re gonna win.”

“Maybe,” he said, winking and laughing somehow at the same time.  And wasn’t that just something? To see an android laugh of all things.  Made Connor’s freckles stand out and that one stray piece of hair flop into his eyes.

“Well it deserves it.  You really can’t taste anything either, can you?”  He’d looked so sad without a piece of cake, like Sumo waiting around with his empty bowl.

“Not every android can, but I have some taste,” Connor said as he straightened, playing with a button on the sleeve of his shirt.  “But I try not to overdo it, and I’ve already tasted my own cake a lot today.”

And that was interesting wasn’t it?  Why would Connor be able to taste?  “Hmmm, so what got you into baking to begin with?  I’m assuming you weren’t meant to be a cook of any sort.”

Connor came up beside Hank to look out over the field of snowdrops, the edge of his sleeve just brushing Hank’s arm.  “No, baking is very far removed from what I was designed to do. It’s just—it’s very methodical, with a clear end in sight and clear steps to get there.  It’s relaxing for me, and I do enjoy tasting new flavors.  And,” his LED cycled yellow for a moment, “I guess it makes me feel more human—to make something creative, something useful, even though I can’t eat it myself.  It’s still valuable for me.”

It wasn’t what he was looking for, but Hank wouldn’t pry any more. And he, well, he thought that sounded about right.  “You know, the only reason I applied to be here was because my son wanted me to.”  And Connor, well, Connor was easy to talk to.  “And I didn’t even have the energy to do it until—well until a lot of things.  But, fuck, it makes me feel more human too.”

Hank could see a smile pulling back over Connor’s face, a little less wonky than before.  The kid was still fidgeting with his shirt.  Seemed like rather a lot for a robot, Hank thought, but it was also kind of endearing.

Soon enough, the judges were back to announce the results, and . . . Hank’s cake won.  Hank’s cake won the first challenge.  He couldn’t believe it.  He was so stunned that he was actually pissed off that Connor’s didn’t come in first instead of second.  He’d expected to be eliminated on the first day, but that didn’t seem like such a given anymore.  And Connor was happy for him. 

And that—it was nice, after so long, to have something to be proud of and to have someone to share it with. 

**Author's Note:**

> So what happens in the technical challenge?  Do they stay in the same hotel that night?  Who takes the show stopper and star baker??
> 
> Who knows?  Not me.
> 
> Actually I do:
> 
>   * Connor wins the technical challenge and the show stopper. He takes star baker for that week.
>   * They do stay in the same hotel. It’s a small cottage-type inn near the park.  Hank findsConnor just sitting awkwardly in the common area on the first night since sleeping isn’t really a thing for him.  He learns that Connor works as a detective with the Met in London.  He does not ask Connor back to his room that night, but it briefly crosses his mind and sends him into a dramatic crisis.
>   * With each successive week, they become fast friends and go neck to neck first and second in every challenge.
>   * After the fifth week, Hank does ask Connor back to his room in the inn. Just to cuddle, he tells himself ajksdlfjsal;dfj
>   * Hank ends up winning the entire competition, but he gives all his winnings to runner up Connor, since he didn’t know what he was going to do with them anyway.
>   * Connor leaves London and moves with Hank and Sumo to a cottage, where they continue to work as detectives somewhere in the UK countryside and get married by the ocean.
>   * The End
> 

> 
> Other notes:
> 
>   * Rhubarbs are sweet, but their leaves are poisonous. As soon as Richard deviated, he decided that detective work wasn’t lucrative enough for him, so instead he used his looks to become a TV show host for multiple networks.  He’s so iconic that he’s the highest paid TV celebrity in history and can pull in huge audiences despite his chronic monotone and limited emotional responses.
>   * We all know that Gavin is a Mary Berry at heart.
> 

> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving kudos or a comment!


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